


Run

by HugsNotDrugs



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Bad Smut, Convenient Plot Devices, Fluff, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Pedophilia, SO MUCH FLUFF, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Underage - Freeform, first fic, im sorry that i write in chunks, many plot holes, morty being cute, sad angsty thoughts, sleep talk, some?? alien?? bullshit?, sorry if it sucks, sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-10 10:50:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12910368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HugsNotDrugs/pseuds/HugsNotDrugs
Summary: in which rick and morty set each other freelike a little bit based on Run by bts??? not really





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> hi,
> 
> this is my first rick and morty fanfiction! i don't think i'm very good at writing so any feedback would be appreciated ^^; (especially smut, i have no experience with smut xD) this fandom has so many amazing writers who served as inspiration to me and writes amazing fics and i feel a little intimidated to post here haha, but i hope someone will enjoy this ;u;

Morty Smith never had friends. How could he, when every person he came in contact with always seemed to hate him? Everything about him turned against him, every freckle on his small face a sin. Inside, Morty was so much older and colder than a fourteen year old boy should have been. Years of averted gazes from his parents and people kicking him around like the scrawny kid he was has turned him off from the world. The grown-ups never noticed. His peers never noticed. No one ever noticed. Unless, and this was a truth that Morty had come to accept: No one actually cared.

The first thing Morty thought when the mad scientist crashed at his doorstep by spaceship was how attractive the man was. Light blue hair sticking up wildly every which way, sharp features, a burning gaze filled with purpose. A man who has clearly blazed his own trail; a man who was out of this world. Words caught in Morty’s throat as he tried and failed to say something in acknowledgment to the strange man, his mouth opening and closing dumbly. All he could think of was the astonishing power of the piercing blue gaze of the other, like he possessed the ability to see into Morty’s very core. 

“U-uhm…” Morty stuttered nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes flitted around, not daring to settle on any one thing about the man. Pale skin. Lean figure. Worn face. Beautiful. “Excuse me!” He gasped, closing the front door with a great bang. He took a deep breath and tried to erase the blush from his cheeks as he called for Beth to come downstairs: “Mom! There’s a man outside! He’s- he’s got some sort of crazy weird spaceship thing!”

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh.” Beth left her half-empty wine glass on the dining room table, nearly spilling it as she walked quickly to the door. “W-what is it mom? Do you know who he is?” Morty followed her. Beth flung open the door with excitement, making it creak horribly with the labor of it. Her hopeful blue eyes quickly followed the man’s form up to his face and welled up with joy as she embraced him tightly; as she embraced the man with eyes the precise same shade of blue as hers. Beth began to sob.

“Dad!”

\--------------------------------------------------------

It had been years since Rick Sanchez had last visited his grandson. It had been even longer since Rick Sanchez had left his daughter all alone with no one but her good-for-nothing husband Jerry who had gotten her pregnant while she was still in high school. It was a dick move, he’d admit it, but he couldn’t stand Dimension C-137. He couldn’t stand the harsh reality of that world. So, he moved to other ones. Plenty of places that were more interesting, fun, and exploitable than plain old C-137. It was much easier to cope when the problems you faced weren’t your own and you could leave them all behind at any moment.

Rick’s grandson Morty Smith, was one of the last people who had and would ever receive Rick’s love. He was willing to look past the scum called Jerry Smith who had impregnated his teenage daughter for Morty only, for that beautiful baby boy. For his baby boy. When Rick had heard from his friend Birdperson that his daughter had delivered a second child, Rick portaled into the newborn’s bedroom and petted and kissed the child when he cried so that his mother could catch a wink of sleep. “Mortimer Smith, huh? Shitty name.” He smiled at the little boy as he stretched out his fingers for Rick. On the night of Morty’s first birthday, Rick came back and coaxed smiles and giggles out of the little boy by making him fly with the Levitation Ray. Carefully though, always carefully; and Rick always left before anyone else in the house was awake. His visits became less and less frequent as Morty grew up, lest the boy remembered his grandpa.

Now the boy was fourteen and didn’t remember even the slightest thing about Rick. Hopefully, anyway. The boy was staring at him with a peculiar expression. Rick methodically surveyed Morty’s slim physique, a rush of love flooding him at the sight of his grandson: so much taller, so much bigger. Morty had grown up to be a beautiful boy with dark brown curls framing his milky face and big warm doe-eyes twisting at what’s left of Rick’s shrunken heart. He wasn’t quite sure if he should have liked the way Morty had grown, but he knew he did.

Beth nearly launched herself at her father who she hasn’t seen the shadow of in over a decade. Guilt ran along his spine as his daughter hugged him tightly, so very tightly, like she didn’t ever want him to be separated from her again. Beth’s tears stained the front of Rick’s blue turtleneck, a mixture of grief and joy seeping into his chest that would be very hard to wash out. He ran his fingers apologetically through her blonde hair, lifting up his head to see Morty. His grandson’s face was pale as a ghost as he staggered backward and ran up the stairs.

What’s wrong with that guy?

\-----------------------------------------------

Sometimes Rick was like a phoenix burning in the night, passionate, swift, and full of life. He’d run around his lab, mashing together different alien materials wildly, following a complicated algorithm that seemed only he himself could possibly comprehend. He moved with an agility that didn’t reflect his age, dancing around vials and sophisticated contraptions. Morty often watched him at work with awe, sitting in a corner of the garage observing. It was an honor to be able to help the scientist, fetching wrenches and whatnot and being dragged across space and time for strange materials. Morty loved being with Rick, always eager to please him and make him direct a smile his way.

Other times Rick seemed like he was drowning, wasted on his rickety cot or slumped over his desk in the garage, ashen skin cold to the touch and one hand clutching his flask like it was his lifeline. Under Rick’s detached facade was a man that held the burden of several lifetimes, mistakes upon mistakes that were all too human. Morty saw it when Rick came down from the high of intergalactic and life-threatening space adventures, how the light left his eyes as whatever he retrieved from an alien planet ultimately couldn’t solve his relationship with his daughter, couldn’t solve his relationship with his ex-lovers, couldn’t solve the self-loathing that’s buried itself into his heart. Those times were when Morty cried the most. He cried because the great man cried also, in his sleep when he thought Morty couldn’t hear through the walls.

And still other times Rick was a complete asshole. Selfish, brash, and without empathy. He forsook entire civilizations on a whim, was rude to everyone, and couldn’t give less of a shit what you thought of him. More often than not, the things Morty did to get Rick’s attention (affection) were thrown right back into his face with little to no remorse. It hurt, knowing that in Rick’s eyes Morty was just a dumb kid, always making blunders and being a nuisance. Strangely though, Rick at times seemed almost insecure, as if he wanted to maintain that image of himself that he knew Morty thought that he was. Morty wished desperately to be the one to take off that mask, for Rick to show his true self that Morty rarely caught glimpses of.

At two a.m. in the morning, Rick barged into Morty’s bedroom with infectious fervor. “M-Morty! Get your sorry ass up and out. I’m going t-to Sion 9 and you need to help me get some shit from those s-EUGH-suckers.” The elder belched loudly and alcohol-laced spittle sprinkled down onto Morty’s stirring form, too hammered for any logical path of thinking. Rick grabbed the small brunet’s wrist roughly, pulling him cruelly from his sleep.

Morty quickly put his hand over his crotch, acutely aware that his white underwear did not, in fact, leave much to the imagination. “W-w-what the Hell Rick! Let- let go of my arm!” Even as he said it Morty was straightening his messy curls and fetching his skinny jeans. He slipped on his bright yellow t-shirt as Rick shot a glowing green portal just beyond his bed, the mysterious gate swirling round and round as they leaped into it and was spit out onto Sion 9.

\--------------------------------------------

Skinny. So painfully skinny. Rick felt the small bones in Morty’s arm grind against each other as he pulled him out of bed. He hastily loosened his grip on Morty and let him put on his clothes, stowing his flask away into the pocket of his khakis. Morty’s bare white legs, too, were way too scrawny, skin wrapped tightly around his thin frame. By the time he finished dressing, he had forgiven Rick already, big eyes burning brightly in anticipation of adventure and eager to be grandpa’s little helper. Rick opened up a portal to the alien planet and the boy followed loyally behind him.

What a darling boy he was, always taking care of Rick, following every one of Rick’s commands without question; but wasn’t he a little too malleable? The boy was diffident and anxious to a fault, as if he wasn’t used to being treated as anything more than garbage on the side of the road. Some nights Morty would come into the garage or knock shyly on his bedroom door, and Rick would open it with some hint of enthusiasm only to be greeted by his grandson’s tearful eyes, thin arms reaching out to Rick, seeking comfort in the old man. It made anger bubble up in Rick’s stomach. How dare people treat his grandson that way? What had been happening all those years that Rick was away? 

Occasionally consciousness jolts through him as he thinks that he may be contributing to the problem, but a swig from his flask would dampen his guilt. He couldn’t ever express the many ways he loved the little boy, in most parts due to his own pride. Love was a slippery slope. To love was to be weak, and Rick did not like to be weak. Rick knew he was no good. He was all ready for Morty to never ever talk to him outside of the adventures he’d force him into, so that they never form a bond beyond what was needed for Rick to continue his intergalactic escapades, but the boy exceeded his expectations. Morty forgave him again and again, even though many times Rick didn’t deserve it.

They trudged along Sion 9’s sticky surface, each step going shwuk, shwuk, shwuk as their sneakers made imprints in the strange gooey tendrils of what held resemblance to grass made of Jello. The planet was swathed in red due to the peculiar atmospheric makeup, and everything was cast in a sickly sanguine. “Now Morty I gotta- I gotta warn you about this uh- this place. These aliens aren’t too smart but they’re very, and I mean v e r y good at sniffing out extraterrestrial beings. We’re here on a pretty tight time-limit, I’d say.” He could hear Morty’s breaths grow more and more labored as the small boy picked up and stomped down his feet heavily on the squelching ground and knew he couldn’t go on much longer. 

“Morty you eUGH- useless turd, if you don’t pick up the pace we’re either going to literally start corroding from the inside out or a Sionian will carry you off to- to- have their babies. Which do you prefer?” Rick said with an amount of apathy that could only come out of Rick Sanchez’s mouth when addressing such topics. He felt Morty flinch behind him without even looking back. It ran through him again, that little bit of guilt gnawing at his insides: Why’d he have to be so mean to the kid all the time? No. He’s like this because of you. No. He’s insecure because of you, yet he needs you. No. NO-

“Rick, I’m- I’m-” Morty stammered out in a hurt voice. Rick forced his face to still as he turned to the boy stonily. The awkward teenager was worrying the corner of his sunshine-colored shirt as his eyebrows wrinkled and unwrinkled, sweat dotting his forehead. The boy was rapidly blinking his eyes and Rick shifted uncomfortably as it dawned on him that Morty was trying hard not to cry.

“C’mere.” He said gruffly, opening his arms for Morty, his body conveying that he wanted the boy to come closer, as if for a hug, keeping his emotionless mask upon his face. Morty stepped closer to Rick hesitantly, slightly trembling. In one swift motion, Rick picked up the light body and held the boy up bridal-style, holding back a grunt as his weathered joints screamed internally. Rick liked to think of himself as a man above his emotions, but he was weak to his grandson and his wide-eyed gaze. Morty’s arms reached up to wrap around Rick’s neck unsurely as he rested his head against Rick’s chest, unaccustomed to the physical affection Rick so rarely granted him.

\--------------------------------

It was absolute Hell for a person to make their way around Sion 9 and Morty wondered why for all of Rick’s genius that he didn’t think of flying shoes or at least ones that helped in any way from the ground swallowing up them both. He was tired, dragged out from his bed in the middle of a good night’s sleep, not even having enough time to down a mug of coffee before they left for the garishly red planet. Before long Morty’s shoulders hung heavily, simply not physically fit enough to match Rick’s tireless pace.

And then Rick had snapped at him. Not exactly snapped, he had said it with as little emotion as ever, but it stung. Why did Morty ever think he was special? He was just a scrawny kid, of little help and more often than not a nuisance. He should just be left behind on this depressing planet and Rick wouldn’t have a constantly-sniffling teenager pulling at the hem of his coat. His steps faltered as his chest felt as if it had caved in on itself. That’s right. He was simply unwanted.

“Rick, I’m- I’m-” His pitiful apology never found its way out of his throat as it closed up and he blinked forcefully to try and keep the hot tears in. What good did crying ever do? All it showed was that he was weak. Morty was weak, and he knew it. He dropped it, anyway, because apologizing for one’s existence wouldn’t ever mean anything if you didn’t do anything about it. Perhaps, the thought had crossed his mind sometimes when he was younger, spurred on by his parents’ harsh yelling and sobbing emanating from under his locked door that only ever escalated in volume. 

But now? Now was Rick dragging him out of math class to Gazorpazorp, or Blips and Chiz, or to get more megaseeds. Now was Rick performing all sorts of dangerous experiments on his fragile teenage body. Now was Rick spinning his world upside-down from everything he thought was set in stone, and he loved every bit of it. The adventures, the exhilaration, Morty was like his grandpa in that way, looking for a high to fulfill whatever hole’s been left in their ribcages. But it wasn’t just the high, it was spending those moments with Rick. It was being trusted enough to be Rick’s helper, being able to see his smile once in awhile, even if it was doped-up or just out of pure delirium. He liked to see Rick happy, no matter what. 

Rick has turned him into a coward. The idea of death scares Morty now, because he so desperately wants to live. He wants to live for the next adventure, for the next time he’d see Rick. He wants to live in this world, and the next one over and the next one over, the worlds that were void of color before Rick came into his life.

Well, that entire thing was only true if the definition of “now” was fluctuating and inconsistent periods with total absence in between, because sometimes Rick was the way he was on Sion 9: closed-off, cold, and cruel in the way he didn’t care. Didn’t he care? It was always difficult to tell with the mad scientist, but the idea that maybe, Morty wasn’t important to him at all, hurt so very much that it brought him tears of despair. His fear came up in hiccups as he tried to hold his green gaze with Rick’s icy blue that were as impenetrable as they were piercing.

Morty let out a gasp of surprise as Rick suddenly picked him up with alarming agility, thin and long hands supporting the small of his back and the back of his knees, a small smirk adorning his lined face. Rick. Picked him up. Holding him. Rick. Hands on his back and basically cradling him. Was this a dream? He felt Rick’s touch in every particle of his being as happiness and fear coursed through his veins. This Rick was a stranger. Any moment now he’d drop Morty to the ground and laugh a nasty sharp laugh, or feed him to one of the carnivorous aliens of Sion in order to gather its saliva. Rick wouldn’t ever treat him so tenderly.

But Morty didn’t want it to be a dream. Did he dare? He dared. He reached up to wrap his arms around Rick’s neck. He rested his head on Rick’s soft blue shirt, feeling the lean muscles of the older man’s chest through the cotton cloth. Thuh-thump. What was that? Then, rapidly following it: Thuh-thump, thuh-thump, thuh-thump. A heartbeat that matched his own, hard and heavy and stuttering. It took Morty a moment to figure out where it came from, that irregular and rigorous beating that reverberated through his bones. Morty’s eyes flitted up to Rick’s face and saw a look he didn’t recognize, a little something darting around in his expression like a crack in the ice.

\------------------------

“S-s-shit kid, you’ve been gaining- gaining weight?” Rick stammered in what he hoped was a teasing tone as he lumbered onwards like a firefighter rescuing a dame. Could Morty hear it? Could Morty hear the blood pounding in his head? Could Morty hear his heartbeats laced with not only fatigue but something resembling love for his grandson? He was awfully scared that Morty would know he cared. But he didn’t want to let go of Morty’s warm body, so compliant and trusting in Rick’s arms and his little hands hugging Rick. The look Morty gave him was so sweet and cute that Rick’s facade fell even further. Holy Hell he was beautiful.

Rick hoisted the boy up until Morty was sitting on his shoulders so he could scan the ground for the slime trails that the Sionians left behind whenever they moved. It was a lot more precarious considering Morty wasn’t a little baby anymore, but it was for the best anyway, in case he could see and hear all the different ways he was affecting Rick with his proximity and the way he ran his agile fingers through Rick’s hair almost like he was giving a massage and oh God. Rick was a pervert. He swallowed hard and devoutly focused on the indicator of his gun for milligrams of the material he sought: Nothing… Nothing… Oh! 0.40 milligr- The boy cleared his throat a bit and bent down to the man’s ear and whispered gently: “Rick?”

Rick almost jumped out of his skin, jolted from his slime-searching stupor. “Fuck! Okay, y-you little, you little shit. What do you want?” He still shivered a bit at the little puffs of breath his grandson was blowing into his ear. “W-when you said the aliens would carry me off to have their babies… you were joking right?” Morty’s fingers worked at Rick’s labcoat worriedly as he spoke it into Rick’s ear in a hushed tone.

“No Morty I was completely serious when I said that. They’ll come and take away your sweet little ass to mate with until you disintegrate.” Rick deadpanned, but even as he said it uncomfortable jolts of anger flashed through him.

“W-what was that again?” 

“I said they’ll come and take away your s-sorry little ass to mate with until you disintegrate.”

“Yeah uh- Holy crap! Rick!” 

“What is it?”

“There’s- there’s a thing! It’s coming towards us! RICK!”

Rick turned around to see an alien coming towards them, red like the rest of the planet, tendrils emitting from its several orifices and slithering towards them at an alarming rate. Rick immediately gripped on tighter to Morty’s legs and fumbled in his pockets for his Obliterator, the strongest weapon he had on him. The light emitted from the ray gun would eradicate 99.9% of the molecular bonds of any creature that it touched. Overkill? Maybe, but no way in Hell was he going to let this blobfish snake thing hurt Morty. Just as he made the creature’s existence history Morty cried out that more was coming. A lot more.

“Rick! Give me a gun!” Morty did an impressive backflip off Rick’s shoulders into a crouch and reached up for Rick to hand him the other ray gun. The teenager fired at one after another in rapid succession, expression sharp in concentration as he blew apart the serpent creatures. They fell to the bullets and Rick felt a rush of pride as he looked at Morty’s stance out of the corner of his eye: sturdy but held lightly so that the agile boy was able to take flight at any moment. That was his grandson! He shouted out a few words of praise at Morty before he watched a Sionian head fly into the air and a sharp fang snagging the flesh of the boy’s arm, making a huge tear along his bicep that immediately began gushing blood.

Morty cried out in pain and dropped his gun, losing his balance as he kicked the severed head away. More were closing in. Motherfuckers. Rage boiled in Rick’s stomach as he took out the portal gun and shot a portal to the garage out in front of them. He quickly took a syringe with a shimmering blue liquid from one of his pockets. “Morty, Morty, listen. You have to use the syringe. I’ll be home soon.” Never again. Rick took a shuddering breath and pushed Morty into the portal, throwing the syringe after him. He heard the portal close behind him as he fired his Obliterator blindly, completely aware that he was wasting the charges.

However, the number of aliens began to dwindle and Rick wiped blood off his face with more than a hint of disappointment. His bloodlust raged as Morty’s small cry rang around in his head. He would have murdered every Sionian on the planet if they had killed Morty. And suddenly, all the fight drained out of Rick. The Sionians weren’t the ones who almost got Morty killed, he was. What was he thinking bringing his only grandson to such a dangerous planet just to collect some alien spit? You know Sanchez, for the smartest man in the multiverse you sure have a knack for fucking up your whole life, he thought bitterly.

Rick wished he was dead. Morty would be safe at home. Morty would be fine with the blue serum that restores full health. Morty would have a normal life without Rick. Happy, probably, or at least not hurting in the way that Rick made him hurt. He limply checked the charge on his portal gun. It was nearly depleted, with enough left for one portal. The scientist used up the charge as he shot one last portal to planet Zeta, a place that was as empty as he felt. He just wished he had said a proper goodbye, but he didn’t know if he deserved to.

\----------------------------

The last Morty saw of Rick was his grandfather pushing him into the portal, a sad look in his eyes. He didn’t know if Rick’s portal gun was charged, as it ran out all the time. But Rick had promised to come home. He promised. Morty sat quietly in the garage, holding his newly-bandaged arm, feeling much better after injecting the serum from the syringe. The venom of the aliens’ fangs did something weird to him, so that he couldn’t find the energy to protest when Rick pushed him through the portal, alone. As a result of his interrupted sleep and the venom, Morty felt very sleepy, so he curled up on the cold ground of the garage, knowing that Rick wouldn’t have liked to portal back to the house anywhere else.

I’ll be home soon. Rick’s last words to him echoed in Morty’s head, lulling him to sleep.

\-----------------------------

The most unbearable thing about being on an empty planet was the lack of alcohol. Rick had emptied out his flask long ago when he had barged into Morty’s room. Rick kicked at little green crystals on the ground that reminded him of Morty’s eyes. He didn’t want to be left alone to think about his problems. Yet there they were, in plain sight to torture Rick’s mind with. He was very thirsty and very tired and suddenly his knees buckled beneath him. His hands dug into the dusty ground as two small Morties appeared in front of him, each about the height of a newborn standing up. One was slightly taller and had darker green eyes than the other, who had a scar along his right bicep. Both boys looked up at Rick imploringly, never-ending drops of tears welling up and rolling down their cheeks. 

“Rick… Rick… I think the venom’s gotten in… Am I going t-to die?” the smaller one whimpered, right arm tensed up as if he was still holding the gun, still back on Sion 9 with the monsters leaping at him from all sides. 

“Rick… Rick… Why would you do that?” the taller one cried. “I waited for you to come back, you know. I was so scared, Rick. But I thought you’d come back f-for me.” His soft pink lips crinkled up in hurt as his eyes searched Rick for an answer.

Rick scooted backward away from the two versions of his grandson, looking on in horror as the small boys rotted away before his eyes, skin shriveling up and their thin bones crackling. Oh God. Everything was his fault. What was he doing? He was just leaving again, leaving like every single time he screwed up. What if he had knocked out Morty when he pushed him through the portal? What if Morty couldn’t insert the syringe properly? No one in the house would have given a shit about the boy. Was he even still alive? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Morty.

\--------------------------------

Morty woke with a start. What was that noise? Had Rick come back? Pushing himself up onto one arm, he noticed with disappointment that the garage was still dark. Dejected, the boy went into the kitchen for a glass of water. He almost dropped his glass in shock as he saw the oven clock: 11:00 a.m. His parents had gone to work, Summer had gone to school. It’s been well over four hours since Rick had been separated from Morty on that awful planet, and for a man who was basically God on Earth it was terrifying. He decided to wait a while longer. Maybe Rick was trying to collect the rest of the Sionian venom. It was okay.

\-------------------------------

Rick quickly scanned the barren planet around him, trying to remember if somewhere, there was a reservoir of naturally-occurring liquid striotine that he needed to charge his portal gun. It was probably hopeless as the planet seemed to be nothing more And suddenly, the answer hit him. He picked up a shard of crystal from the ground and examined it, checking the facets to see if the composition matched the element he was looking for. As he looked, the crystal stared back. It made his throat tighten up as the green sparkled, so similar to the eyes of his grandson. Rick pocketed it quickly. 

He walked along the cracked earth of the planet, tapping at it every few feet as his density scanner that he had used to track the Sionians swept its blue glow across the ground looking for the green liquid. Rick would be hard-pressed to admit to himself that he was, in fact, very dehydrated. Who was he to be affected by a human inconvenience like that? Still, he swallowed drily and trod onwards. He promptly fell into a hole.

\--------------------------------------

Morty decided to spend his day worriedly jerking off. He’d begin, as always, with the soft figure of a certain red-haired beauty: Jessica’s plump lips begging to be kissed, long eyelashes fluttering in invitation for him to come over and ravish her. It would have been so simple each time, if he finished his fantasies by releasing into a hot girl, or heck, even a hot guy, but without fail those distinctive blue eyes would turn to look at him. Visions appeared of Rick’s calloused fingertips trailing along his torso, their bodies pressed together, Rick’s breath tangy from the alcohol over his ear whispering nothings too sweet for his mouth and sharp teeth nipping at his sensitive neck, it was all too much for Morty’s fragile teenage heart. He pumped himself to completion, bucking his hips into the sheets and panting waves of his grandfather’s name lustfully. Self-loathing washing over him as he stared at the milky discharge on his belly, his raw cock twitching.

It still scared him how much he enjoyed his fucked-up fantasies.

\-------------------------

“What the shit!” Holy fuck he fell head-first into a hole. Who even does that? Hurt like shit too. Little shards of rock fell down the sides as the stunned scientist reoriented himself to his new surroundings. Rick’s arms were elbow-deep in s o m e t h i n g. As he blinked dumbly at the green substance his arms and legs were in, the liquid began to sizzle and burn away at his clothing. Shit. It was the striotine and it was burning and dear Lord he was going to burn up. He withdrew his upper limbs quickly, legs finding no purchase on the slippery sides of the hole, arms screaming with the effort to lift him out of there. 

Rick sat at the edge of the hole clutching his marred arms and threw up in his mouth as he saw bits of charred flesh crumble away and bright beads of crimson blood rise up to the surface. He spat out the acidic water and wiped his lip with disgust. The simple movement sent jolts of pain down his right arm. He rotated his arms at the shoulder joint to assess the damage. They hurt like a bitch but at least he could feel the pain, so none of his major nerves had been damaged. Next he examined his legs. Due to his fire-proof shoes and pants, his legs weren’t doing terribly. It was only that the striotine had seeped in through his socks, disintegrated the fabric and bitten away at his ankles, making every movement of them painful. Hell, he was gonna have to find a way to make his skin portal fluid-proof now. He peered at the bubbling green liquid below him. 

\-------------------------

Rubbing one out always felt good. And then the pleasure fades away right after it was over, because Morty didn’t want it to feel so good. What the Hell was wrong with him for being attracted to his own grandfather? He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help shivering whenever Rick looked at him, because those eyes would hold the stars of every universe he’d ever seen. He couldn’t help blushing whenever Rick called him pet names, because he’d always assign them more meaning than Rick did when he had said them so lightly. He couldn’t help this feeling of being alive for the first time, because of Rick and for Rick. It made Morty feel dirty and not right in his own skin, but these thoughts all got washed away when Rick smiled at him, or gave him an encouraging pat on the back and Morty was willing to leap into a thousand fires again for the man he loved. 

Morty curled up on his side, tears growing hot and angry. A mistake of God, that’s what he was. Still, that didn’t stop him from wrapping himself up in a blanket that he pretended were Rick’s safe arms. Morty went to sleep again for the third time that day.

\-------------------------------

All Rick felt was shame as he laid himself flat at the edge of the hole, using his shoe which was tied to his pants, which he had taken off as well, to scoop up striotine. All he needed now was a divine being to smite him out of his pitiful existence. Whatever. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He pulled the scoop back out and loaded it in through a tiny tube in the front of the portal gun. Reassembling his bruised pride, Rick ran an equation that solidified itself in his mind long ago from how much he used it into the gun. The neon green light inside pulsated with renewed power and he opened a portal to the garage, never before quite appreciating one so much, and staggered inside. I’m coming home, Morty.

\-------------------------------

Morty sat in the garage thoughtfully, fidgeting with the device that created holographic projections of the stars that Rick had made him once so he wouldn’t have so many nightmares when he went to bed. He’d shown it to Jessica at the party Rick held a few months ago with the intent to impress. ‘This is my grandpa Rick’s crazy science lab.’ Morty looked back on how even though he wanted to awe Jessica, all he could think about when the beautiful planets and stars spun slowly around them was how proud and thankful he was for Rick to be in his life.

The noise of a portal suddenly opening a few feet behind him pulled Morty out of his train of thought. He excitedly turned around to see the mess that was Rick Sanchez: Arms and legs horribly charred, clothing in tatters, hair even messier than usual and eyes red and bloodshot from stress and crying. Morty stared with shock and sadness, rooted in place by the visage of the sagged man in front of him before the older man quivered ever so slightly and ran towards Morty, dropping his portal gun with a clatter. His hug was so powerful that it lifted the boy off his toes and his arms wrapped tight around Morty like he was the only thing that mattered.

“You’re bleeding!” Morty noticed with alarm. Moving had upset the wounds and more blood leaked out as Rick held on to Morty relentlessly. “You’re okay… you’re okay…” Rick mumbled into the boy’s shoulder, rocking slightly side to side and trembling with invisible tears. Morty gently undid Rick’s grasp from the small of his back and his nape, wincing at the mangled skin and flesh wounds. The elder crumpled as soon as he lost the support of his grandson and it took all of Morty’s strength to keep him from hitting the floor. Morty dragged Rick as gently as possible to the living room couch and plopped him down. Rick had passed out from pain and exhaustion.

Carefully, Morty pulled off Rick’s lab coat and rolled up the sleeves of the man’s blue shirt, getting a full view of the blisters and burns that littered his arms, fingertips, and palms charred. The older man’s sleep was restless, lungs taking ragged and labored breaths and Morty stared for a bit, entranced by the rise and fall of Rick’s chest. He blinked and moved on to the legs. Rick’s pants strangely did not look worse for wear, but Morty concluded they were probably fire-proof, anyway, though he wasn’t quite sure what had burned Rick. He rolled up Rick’s pants, not quite ready to take off anything major yet, though he could hear Rick in his head chastising him for being so squeamish. 

Morty fetched a glass for water for Rick and was relieved to see his grandfather’s eyes drift open just for a split second to find him. Rick groaned in agony, leading Morty to rush to his side with worry. “W-what’s wrong Rick? How are you feeling?” Rick squeezed his eyes shut and said with a grin: “I need- I need myself a beer real bad, Morty. Withdrawal. It does things- it does things to you.” Morty frowned disapprovingly but tapped at Rick’s lips for him to open his mouth. The tip of a tongue flicked at Morty’s finger and the boy yelped in surprise, wiping his finger on his yellow shirt as Rick roared with laughter that upset his burns, turning his mirth into a gasp of pain. Morty’s face split into a wide grin also, realizing that his grandpa was going to be alright and he gently poured the water into Rick’s grateful throat.

“You know… the whole time I was out there I was missing you, Morty. I was so scared that something would have happened to you.” Rick mumbled, eyes closed again and sinking into the couch. Morty stared at Rick with a questioning eye. Rick was never this open about his feelings, perhaps the pain was getting to him. Morty went into the kitchen for some Ibuprofen and cloths. The older man sighed in appreciation as Morty wrapped up his arms with cool damp bandages, soothing the burns. Morty took the painkiller in his hand when Rick began to speak again.

“Morty… I love you... “ It was strained, urgent, filled with pain and fear. “I love you and I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” Rick apologized over and over again as if in a trance, but strangely, his eyes did not open to make any sort of eye contact with Morty. The boy watched for awhile, a little perplexed but touched by the things Rick would never say to him. Slowly, the man’s worn face smoothed, cheeks tear-streaked but no longer crying that mournful cry of a man who lost everything he had. Morty was happy and sad but mostly he just didn’t want Rick to hurt anymore. Quickly, before he had time to second-guess himself, Morty bent down to Rick’s face and kissed him softly, memorizing the feel of Rick’s chapped lips against his own. The elder’s eyes flew open.

\-----------------------------

Rick's heart pounded in his chest as his body stiffened against the couch. For a few seconds, neither of them moved, Morty looking scared and small with his big green eyes and Rick equally terrified.

He could stay or he could run, as he had done so many times before. But he didn’t want to run, not anymore. He was tired, so tired, of trying to leave behind everything and everyone he cared about. Yeah, right. As if moving to another dimension would erase his memories of the things he did. So he stopped running, and let fate catch up as he kissed Morty back, just as sweetly as the boy did for him.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!! i worked rather hard on this and i hope someone liked it. sorry for unnecessary commas/ weird order of words, idk english very well yet ;u; comments appreciated TvT
> 
> -awaits scolding-


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